s c e n t     Nov. 10, 1999.

"The first thing to greet your guests as they enter your home is the aroma, and the impression it creates may be more enduring than that made by the fixtures and fittings."

from Valerie Ann Worwood: The Fragrant Pharmacy

rose tree
camelia
tea
gardenia
honeysuckle
nutmeg
coriander

The bookstore at Toldi, before the late night show on Tuesday night. There is a small basket on the counter with French perfume oils, and with the candlelight, the place could just as well be Kathy's place, and the scent her perfume, the candles her candles on the table in the sitting room or by the washbasin in the bathroom. The autumn sunshine sparkles through somewhat smoky windows as we sit, drink bottles of Beaujolais and eat cheese with biscuits and olives, while the cat watches us from the top of the armchair, opposite to where I am sitting. On a small table (or maybe one of the speakers) by the window in the corner there is a wrought iron basket full of bright red apples. She is wearing her ever present red lipstick, smoking and chatting as though we have been friends for years. There are cards on the table, her boyfriend and even her brother joins the game and we order pizza, drink more wine and eat praline, and go to bed at nearly 5 in the morning. We have a double mattress on the floor of their study. In the morning the candle is still burning in the bathroom, the scent of fresh coffee fills the apartment, plenty of coffee with plenty of Half and half and some honey cereal floating on top of the milk in the bowl is what I remember. In the hall the huge bouquet of white flowers we had brought from the reception is getting eaten by the cat. Early afternoon she leaves to pick up a vanity table for the bedroom, dark brown as most of the furniture.

[ It all comes back so clear. I walk from the living room through the hall and the dining area into the kitchen through the door on the right, then turn toward the bedroom, walk by the bathroom and the study to come back to the dining room. ]

She says she has mountains of laundry to do but does not seem to worry much, instead she pulls out a not so dirty pair of green velvet trousers and a tight brown pullover and says that while the rest of us drive around and return a long due videotape to a bookstore where we spend quite a bit of time she is going to a café to prepare for her French lesson in the afternoon. Later, in the evening, all four of us go to look for jeans for me and in the car we share a box of sweet biscuits she'd bought. We go to their favourite record shops and the university bookstore, and we go for a walk in the cold and mainly deserted streets around there, the old university church which we had seen the day before and which had been converted into a gym, for some odd reason. There are warm yellowish lights above our heads and crisp, dry leaves underneath the feet. The warmth of the apartment, the wine, the green salad, her father's hazelnut biscotti. What more?    

[revitalising] grapefruit and rosemary
[sensuous] ylang ylang, patchouli and orange
[relaxing] lavender and cedarwood
[soothing] orange, cinnamon and frankincense
[energising] bergamot and vetivert
[luxurious] rose, melissa and benzoin
[exotic] black pepper, orange and geranium
[sporty] basil, rosemary and lemongrass
[spicy] cypress, benzoin and frankincense